


Keep You Together

by Solrika



Series: McGenji Week 2016 [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, McGenji Week, Reaper and Wraiths AU, Talon Genji Shimada, Talon Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:34:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solrika/pseuds/Solrika
Summary: My contribution to McGenji Week, Day 2- AU, co-starring Widowmaker. This is part of my Wraith AU, where Gabriel takes his Blackwatch crew with him when he infiltrates Talon as Reaper. When you've got a dragon about to tear apart a spider, the best thing to do is call in a cowboy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re interested in more about this AU (including drawings), you can check it out at my tumblr here: 
> 
> solrika.tumblr.com/tagged/reaper+and+wraiths+au/

Not much scares her anymore. Bullets and backflips off buildings are all just a part of her job, and the ‘threat’ of being captured by Overwatch pales in comparison to what Talon had done to create her. Things Amelie had shuddered at don’t even merit a twitch now.

The low, inhuman growl that rumbles its way out of her sometime-partner’s throat is an exception. 

Widowmaker breathes out, slow and controlled, forcing her body to still. She remembers something about predators sensing movement. Something deep and primal hopes desperately that if she stays still, the flickering eyes of the cyborg pinning her to the ground will shift to something else. Her more rational brain scoffs, but can’t help playing along.

Vaguely, she’s aware of the other Talon agents in their vicinity gathering around. There’s more than a few shaking guns held at Genji’s head, but he ignores them. Even if he were capable of reasoning at the moment, few rank-and-file agents would dare to harm one of the Reaper’s Wraiths, especially one so highly regarded as Mittsu himself. So it’s just her, and a snarling cyborg, synthetic fangs gleaming through the rent in his cheek. 

She dares to turn her head, inch by inch, and refuses to wince when it makes Genji twitch and tighten his grip, claws digging into her skin. He’s usually so careful with his strength. 

It takes two swallows to work up enough moisture in her mouth to speak, and she does so as slowly as she’s breathing. “Find Dos,” she tells the closest agent, and resists the urge to roll her eyes when he scrambles off as if glad for the chance to escape. _He_ didn’t have the misfortune to be the one nearby when a chance blow knocked Genji’s faulty subroutines online.

Genji moves oddly, striking and fighting like himself, but with a strange animal twist to the motions. His spine appears to have twenty too many joints, and every time this happens he gains a penchant for ripping out throats with bare teeth and metal claws. Green after-images shadow every action. In the bare moment before a blink, she catches a glimpse of scales around his eyes.

Not for the first time, Widowmaker curses herself for not intervening sooner. True, there had been her own programming to work around, but she has precious little patience left for anyone these days, even herself. An hour earlier, and they could have avoided Talon’s fingers in Genji’s head, and she could have avoided this current predicament. 

The cyborg in question hisses as another agent gets too close. Widowmaker stifles a twitch when two shruiken thump themselves into the hapless man’s chest. She’s never been so relieved to hear the jingle of spurs that heralds Jesse’s arrival, or the soft drawl of, “Hey there, darlin’. Not feelin’ so hot, huh?”

She doesn’t answer, knowing it’s not meant for her. Jesse walks up to them as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, and she has to stifle an odd pang of jealousy when Genji lets him kneel down besides them. 

“Somethin’ spooked you, I bet,” Jesse continues, and Genji watches his hand warily but accepts the gentle stroke down his spine. “Why’d you go after our favorite spider?”

Genji doesn’t answer, but Widowmaker does. “I was closest.” 

“Ah.” Jesse leans forwards, holds out his arms. “C’mon, darlin’, let her up.” 

The pain of blood rushing back into her arms is almost worse than the pin had been, but she just sits up as Genji slips off her, shaking her hands out. There’s always something a little magic about watching that sick glow fade from his cybernetic eyes with every step he takes into Jesse’s arms. By the time Genji’s head hits Jesse’s shoulder, poison green has faded into a soft, deep brown. Taking it as her signal, Widowmaker stands, mustering up her best unimpressed glare at the agents grouped around them. 

“Mon dieu, I didn’t know we were paying you to stand around,” she deadpans, arching one perfect eyebrow. “Who’s securing the payload?” 

She watches them retreat towards the transport.

The convulsion that signals Genji’s return to full consciousness tears Jesse’s coat to tatters and leaves bloody marks down his back, but the cowboy just holds his partner tighter. When Genji goes limp, Jesse presses a kiss to his temple. 

“There you go,” Jesse breathes, voice gentle enough to make something ache in Widowmaker’s chest. “You’re safe, sweetheart. Everythin’s alright now.”

“You should not lie to him,” she hisses, unable to help herself.

“Not a lie,” Jesse murmurs, pressing another kiss to Genji’s head. “Long as I got him, nothin’s gonna happen.” 

She snorts, looking away. 

Genji’s voice is a hoarse whisper when he speaks, muffled by Jesse’s coat. “You always were foolish, querido.” 

“You love it.” Widowmaker turns in time to watch Jesse heave them both upright, holding Genji like a bride. It looks deceptively effortless, and she wonders, yet again, if the black smoke wafting from the scratches on his back does more than heal. 

“I love _you_ ,” Genji murmurs. He tips his head against Jesse’s shoulder, deadly claws curled loosely in his lap. “Sometimes I do wish you had a little more cynicism. Might heighten your survival instinct.” His eyes are too tired to hold ire, but he still musters up a semblance of a glare. “You shouldn’t just walk up to me when I’m in that state. What if I took your head off?”

“Eh.” With a shrug, Jesse kisses that frowning face. “El jefe would just sew it on again.” 

“Incorrigible,” Genji and Widowmaker huff at the same time. They catch gazes as Jesse snorts a laugh, and Widowmaker allows Genji to look her up and down. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

There’s that familiar note of self-loathing that she hears in his voice. Jesse swears that before Talon, it used to be quieter, almost silent, and she’s added it to her long list of things to blame the organization for if she ever gets around to breaking free. Widowmaker has little patience left these days, so she strides over to the dead agent, pulls Genji’s shruikens free, wipes them clean on the corpse’s shirt, and marches back over to slot them into his hand. 

“As if you could hurt me,” she sniffs, with the best haughty scorn she can manage, and gently folds the shruiken back into place. 

“See?” Jesse says. “Safe and sound. Didn’t do more’n a scratch or too, sweetheart.” 

Genji glances between the two of them as if searching for the lie. Widowmaker purses her lips at him, shakes her head, and trusts Jesse to speak the truth for the both of them.

He always delivers.

“Don’t go rippin’ yourself up, darlin’.” Jesse leans down, presses gentle kisses to Genji’s cheek. “Ain’t nothin’ you can control, ain’t nothin’ to blame yourself for.” 

“Still--”

“We trust you,” Jesse says, and Widowmaker may not be able to speak the words, but she can nod along.

She can add, “And mon dieu, give the man a _proper_ kiss, Dos.” 

Jesse’s chuckle is gentle, sending soft memories of warmer days down her spine, and she has to look away when he obeys.


End file.
